


White Noise

by x_somnio



Category: Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF), Televoid - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Televoid, This has probably been done a hundred of times but I just wanted to post mine, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_somnio/pseuds/x_somnio
Summary: The Televoid is suffocating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Vignettes like this have probably been done a million times over, but I just wanted to post my own that I've put up on Wattpad a while ago. Enjoy!

Stuck. Stuck like always. Stuck in this small, suffocating room. The same walls, the same floor, the same chair, the same plant. The same printer. The same, small television. 

Ian's eyes darted about, leg bouncing to give himself something to do. Another day without television signal. Another day without seeing people. 

He looked beside himself, at the plant (was it a real plant or was it simply a faux plastic one, in order to give him something _else_  to look at other than the floor, or that stupid TV screen, or his feet?), at the dark walls around him. At his hands. At the extremely comfortable purple hoodie he was wearing. (He was glad that the plant and his hoodie at least brought some colour to the room, he felt as though he'd go mad if he was confined in a monochrome room watching old-timey shows, most of which were monochrome as well.) 

"Is... anyone ever going to let me out?" He wondered out loud-- only to be met with silence. Of _course._  He was always met with silence. Nobody ever replied. Nobody ever talked to him. (Unless you count the e-mails, then of course people talked to him! But _whoever_  was trapping him in his room never let him read any unless the camera was rolling.)

How much _waiting_  was he going to have to endure? How much more _shows,_ how much more  _TV spots_  was he going to have to watch? 

He felt the _eyes_ watching him. But he had no idea where they were. Were they in the walls? In the television screen? In the _plant?_  Ian shook his head. There he went again, exhibiting paranoia. But he swore he was being watched.

He swore he was being watched, watched by an anonymous, malevolent entity-- someone, or some _thing_ \-- in this tiny, dark room. In the static. The static dullness of the room, the static white noise of the television.

All he ever knew was static. And it was probably all he would _ever_ get to know.


End file.
